Heroes for Ghosts
by splenderous
Summary: A terrible injury at the Battle of Hogwarts leaves Marlene McKinnon's orphaned daughter with the ability to travel through time. The only problem? She can't choose when. [Marauders/Pre-BOH/Present day]
1. The Time-Turner

Molly McKinnon wasn't supposed to have the Time-Turner.

Come to think of it, a lot of things weren't supposed to happen that day. The castle wasn't supposed to be destroyed. Her friends weren't supposed to be dying. _You-Know-Who wasn't supposed to be winning._

But these things did happen, and that's how Molly found herself sprinting down a second floor corridor as lights flashed and ancient stone crumbled around her. The bottom of her stomach dropped as she heard footsteps drawing near, and she sped up with a rush of fear-fueled adrenaline. A pair of stately griffin statues stood at the end of the corridor, and without thinking Molly charged directly at them.

"DUMBLEDORE!" She screamed, and the griffins leapt apart to reveal a narrow spiral staircase built into the wall. Molly hurled herself through the doorway and landed hard on the staircase just as it began to move, causing her ankle to twist. She gasped in pain but kept moving up the stairs, her bad foot dragging slightly. Behind her she heard the doorway shut and muffled cursing from the other side. Good. She was safe for the moment, but it wouldn't last long. She needed help.

Molly hadn't realized where she was headed until she saw the griffins, but it seemed something in her subconscious had drawn her to the Headmaster's Office. The Headmaster wasn't here, of course; Dumbledore (whom Molly still considered the real Headmaster) was dead, and Snape (the bastard) had likely fled the grounds after getting chased off by McGonagall in the Great Hall. But there must be something up here that Molly could use.

 _To do what, exactly?_ Said a sharp voice in the back of her head. _To beat You-Know-Who? To bring your friends back? Fred Weasley? Lavender Brown? Susan Bones?_ Molly choked back a sob as an image of her cousin Susan's lifeless body flashed across her mind. She shook her head, willing the voice to shut up, and rounded the final turn of the staircase.

The office was untouched and eerily calm compared to the rest of the castle. There was an occasional muffled boom or shriek from very far off, leaving Molly with the odd impression that she was underwater. Disconcerted, she looked around, wondering what to do. Fawkes's perch was empty; the doors of the Pensieve cupboard stood ajar, as though someone had been in there recently. And next to the cupboard –

"Ah!" Molly exclaimed in surprise. The Sorting Hat. Hadn't Harry Potter once pulled the Sword of Gryffindor from this very Hat in his hour of need? Well, she wasn't likely to pull that off – in fact, she thought she'd seen Longbottom running around with that same sword earlier – but maybe something else…

Molly stepped towards the hat, moving gingerly because of her ankle. She reached out to grab it but hesitated, suddenly unsure. A rip above the hat's brim opened up and whispered: "Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

Emboldened, she grabbed the hat and pulled it down over her head. For a moment everything was dark and dusty and Molly felt deeply foolish. Then a dull glimmer appeared before her eyes and she stretched out a hand. Her fingers met with something cold and snakelike; she grasped it firmly and pulled. The hat flew off and Molly was left clutching a gold chain. At the end of the chain hung a small golden hourglass. A Time-Turner. She'd never seen a real one in person, but what else could it be? And more importantly, what the hell was she supposed to do with it?

Molly wasn't very up on time travel theory and regulation (not that regulation seemed to matter much anymore these days), but she was pretty sure there would be dire consequences if she went messing around with the space-time continuum. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn't have known how to start.

"Thanks a lot," she muttered to the limp hat lying on the floor. Just as she made to continue her search, however, she heard a loud bang and shouting from very close by.

" _This way_!" Rasped a man's voice. " _I saw one head up here_!"

Molly heard footsteps coming up the stairs; they must have blown through the door somehow. Breathing in panicked sobs, she hardly noticed that she was slipping the Time-Turner over her head. There was no use for it now, but its weight against her chest was comforting. She drew her wand from her robes and moved to the center of the office, facing the doorway, ready to die fighting.

"STUPEFY!" She yelled as a man's head came around the corner of the staircase. He fell back with a crash and Molly cheered internally. She was not expecting the second Death Eater, and by the time he'd climbed over his partner's motionless form she was too late to react.

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" He bellowed, moving his wand in a wild slashing motion across the air. Molly screamed, feeling as though she had been ripped in two. There was a deafening roar; then everything went black.


	2. Furry Little Problem

"Oy, Prongs. _Prongs_."

Annoyed, Sirius Black leaned over his desk and jabbed James Potter in the ribs with the butt end of his wand.

" _Whuzzah_?" James mumbled sleepily, jerking his head off the desk. Luckily they were sitting in the back of the classroom and the disturbance went unnoticed. Realizing where he was, James squinted at Sirius with bleary eyes.

"I was having a good sleep, y'know," he whispered. "This is my last chance to nap before practice today, McGonagall will kill me if I try it in her class – "

Sirius rolled his eyes and nodded towards the front of the classroom, where a stringy-haired girl was delivering an oral presentation on, as it happened, werewolves.

"…and of course werewolf euthanasia was outlawed in the early 20th century, but I believe there's a case for bringing it back. Now, werewolf attacks have been on the rise over the past decade in Western Europe alone…"

James didn't need to hear any more. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth. Sirius smirked.

"Been waiting for you to catch on for the past half hour, mate."

"On three then."

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

It took about a minute for the change to become visible. Then –

"Merlin, Bertha, your _face_!" Someone cried from the front row.

"My what?" The girl's hands shot to her face, notecards fluttering to her feet. She shrieked when she felt the soft fur that was sprouting on her cheeks. Then her teeth began to sharpen and elongate into fangs and all hell broke loose. Chairs scraped across the floor and students stumbled over each other in their panic to get out of the classroom, terrified that they were about to get mauled by a werewolf. Sobbing, she shoved through them all and sprinted out of the room. Not seeming to share their classmates' concern, James and Sirius took their time packing up their books. James nodded towards the corner on their way out, where Professor Binns – Hogwarts' only ghost professor – sat dozing.

"Just another day in the life for you, eh Binnsy?" said Sirius. Professor Binns snorted and opened his pearly eyes halfway.

"What's that, boy?"

"Never mind, Professor. See you next class."

"What? Have we finished already?"

Sirius didn't respond and threw his arm around James's shoulder as they passed through the doorway.

"Well, mate, since we're out a bit early today – looks like you've got about an hour to kip in the dorms before Transfiguration. You're welcome."

"Please. You know I did most of the legwork. Although the fangs were a nice touch."

"Prongs, I'm flattered. That's more credit than you've ever given me. Although I think we both know who _really_ needs thanks here – "

"Yes, of course, the artistic muse, our divine inspiration – when's he out of the Hospital Wing by the way? You been by to see him today?"

"Not yet but we can have a stop in after dinner and tell him all about Bertha Jorkins' furry little problem –"

Sirius let out a bark of laughter that died in his throat as they rounded a corner. The corridor before them was deserted – everyone (with the exception of History of Magic) was still in class – save for a trail of dark glistening substance that looked horribly like blood. Sirius and James looked at each other and took off running, crashing into walls as they tried to avoid slipping in the mess.

" _Shit_ ," Sirius breathed as they rounded the next corner, gripping James's arm. At the end of the trail, curled into an alcove in a pool of blood, was a girl. She was white as death and her hands convulsed uncontrollably with each shallow breath.

"Get Dumbledore. Hospital Wing." Sirius said, and James took off immediately. Sirius bent down and scooped the girl swiftly into his arms. She gave a frightened whimper and tried to push against him. He looked down; her eyes were frantic and unseeing.

"Shhh," he whispered, hoping that would soothe her, and began to run towards the Hospital Wing. She clutched briefly at his robes and then her hand went limp. Panicked, he ran faster and nearly collided with James and Dumbledore at the entrance to the Hospital Wing.

"To a bed, Mr. Black," Dumbledore said gravely as he took in the girl's state. Sirius laid her gently on the nearest bed and Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey converged on her at once. He tried to peer around them but felt a bony hand grasp his shoulder and jerk him back.

"That's quite enough, Mr. Black, you've no more business here," Professor McGonagall said firmly.

"But I – "

"I said, _that's quite enough_. You too, Mr. Potter," she added, as James began to open his mouth. "Both of you, get along, you've got class soon, haven't you? Please don't be late." With a purse of her lips, she shoved them gently out the door and slammed it closed.

"Blimey," said James, "what was _that_?"

"Dunno, mate, that was wild," Sirius shook his head. "You recognize her?"

"I don't think so, but who knows, she was in pretty bad shape – "

"Yeah, good point. Reckon she'll live?"

James didn't say anything.


	3. The Hospital Wing

Thank you for the reviews! x

* * *

Waking up was like trying to propel herself from the bottom of the ocean; at first it was slow and heavy, then all at once she was shooting to the surface and breaking through to air.

Molly let out a huge gasp and her eyes shot open. She immediately regretted this decision as the light was blinding to her unaccustomed eyes; she blinked aggressively until the world began to come into focus. High above her arched a vaulted stone ceiling that looked very much like the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. That was impossible, of course; Molly had personally witnessed the Hospital Wing roof blown off by Dolohov and Scabior just hours ago. She must be dead.

"Albus! She's awake!" Molly jerked in surprise and a searing pain shot through her chest. She twisted her head to the side and saw Professor McGonagall sitting primly on a wood-backed chair. Molly's eyes filled with tears; McGonagall must be dead, too, then. They really had lost. Through the blur of her tears she saw a tall, white figure approach.

"Professor, I – " she managed to choke out, but stopped when the two figures looked at one another in surprise.

"Do you know who we are?" The white figure leaned in very close.

"Yes – yes, of course, I do. You're Professor McGonagall, and you're Professor Dumbledore; at least, you were – you're dead now, obviously – like me…"

Dumbledore leaned back and chuckled. "Not yet, I'm afraid, my dear. You and I are both still very much alive."

"That's impossible," Molly said flatly with a shake of her head. "I saw you die. I was there. When Professor Snape – "

" _Professor_ Snape?" McGonagall cut in. "Surely you can't mean Severus Snape? The seventh-year student?"

Molly was at a loss for words. Something was very wrong. She'd fallen into some kind of alternate universe and her head was spinning and her chest was numb –

"What is your name, child?" McGonagall asked.

"Professor, it's _me,_ Molly McKinnon –"

"And what is your House and year?"

"Seventh year. Gryffindor. _Your House_."

McGonagall shot Dumbledore a worried look. "Albus, I have no idea who this girl is," she whispered, gripping his arm.

"Stay calm, Minerva," Dumbledore assured her with a pat of the hand. He turned back to Molly.

"Can you tell us how you got here, my dear?" He asked gently. Molly closed her eyes and spoke slowly, willing herself not to cry.

"You-Know-Who was winning. The Death Eaters were killing right and left. There was nowhere to run, no one left to fight with – "

Here Molly had to stop and choke back a sob. After a moment, Dumbledore willed her to continue.

"One was chasing me, I don't know who it was, and I ended up in your – in the Headmaster's Office. I didn't know what else to do, so I put on the Sorting Hat and it gave me a Time-Turner."

Molly heard McGonagall shift in surprise and opened her eyes. The mood had changed, but Dumbledore's face was frozen in a mask of indifference.

"And then?" He urged.

"And then I heard them coming up the stairs, so I panicked and put the Time-Turner around my neck. I stupefied the first one but the second one was too quick for me. He hit me with a spell – here – " She placed a hand on her chest and realized for the first time that it was heavily bandaged. "And then everything went black. And I woke up here," she finished lamely. Dumbledore leaned forward and reached a spindly hand towards Molly's throat.

"Do you mind?" He asked kindly. Molly shook her head and he slipped his fingers beneath the gold chain that was somehow still around her neck. At the end of the chain hung the shattered remains of the Time-Turner; just a bit of gold plate and jagged glass. Dumbledore gave a gentle tug and the chain fell off. He held it up to the light and examined it closely. McGonagall leaned forward.

"Albus, you don't think – " she began in a hushed whisper. Dumbledore held up a finger. He looked back and forth between the destroyed necklace and the mountain of bandages heaped on Molly's torso. Finally, he spoke.

"I think," he said, "and I cannot be sure – but I _think_ the remains of the Time-Turner must have become embedded in Ms. McKinnon's wound. It is the only way, if she did not activate the Time-Turner herself, that she could have possibly ended up here."

"Hang on," said Molly. "Where exactly is _here_?"

"Oh, I think you know _where_ you are, Ms. McKinnon," said Dumbledore. "The question is, _when_? The year is 1978. Does that satisfy you?"

Molly blinked in shock and was unable to respond. Luckily, McGonagall had plenty to say.

"But what does this mean, Albus? What shall we do with her? We can't let the poor girl – "

"Of course not, Minerva," interrupted Dumbledore. "To be perfectly honest, I don't know what it means, although I have several guesses. Until we know more about Ms. McKinnon's injury, however, I believe it best if we maintain strict confidentiality. Time travel is an extremely dangerous and mercurial business, and one does not do well to meddle in affairs of which one knows little."

"Quite right," McGonagall agreed, "but I suppose in the meantime we'll need to come up with a cover story? Multiple students witnessed her rather – er – splashy appearance…"

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore nodded, "I think the simpler the better." He turned to Molly. "If anyone asks, you are to say you remember nothing before waking up in this Hospital Wing. You were the victim of a dark curse – that much is true enough – that's completely erased your memory. Do you understand?" He asked, raising his eyebrows pointedly.

Molly nodded, although she was having a hard time understanding much at the moment. This was all too surreal, the lights were too bright, her chest was too heavy –

"To maintain an image of normalcy, you'll have to become a student again," Dumbledore continued. "You may rejoin Gryffindor House, if you wish – "

"Yes," said Molly automatically. That much she was sure of. McGonagall smiled slightly.

" - And attend classes, and do all the things that Hogwarts students do. But you must not speak of your past to anyone. You'll need to spend a few more days here, of course – you'll be in good hands with Madame Pomfrey."

"I know," Molly smiled weakly. Dumbledore squeezed her hand.

"I think that's quite enough excitement for one afternoon, then, Ms. McKinnon. We will talk soon, but if anything happens in the meantime – anything at all with regards to your injury – please come and see me at once. Professor McGonagall will help you get set up with the dormitories and classes once you're all healed up. And this is where we leave you."

"Thank you," Molly whispered as both Professors stood, her eyes shining with tears. Despite everything else that had gone so very wrong in the past 24 hours, it was a comfort to know that Dumbledore was in control once again. Both professors nodded and whisked off in a flash of dark robes. Madame Pomfrey immediately materialized to fill the gap they'd left behind.

"Sit up, now, dearie, that's it, I've got this all ready for you – "

"Is that _blood!?"_ Molly exclaimed in disgust as she spotted the large glass in Madame Pomfrey's hand. It was full to the brim with a viscous, nasty-looking red substance.

"No, no, of course not," the nurse tutted, "it's just a blood-replenishing potion. Merlin knows you need it after the amount you lost today. Go on, drink up then." She rolled her eyes as Molly eyed the glass warily. "Don't be foolish, child, it's _not_ blood. It tastes like cherries."

Molly sniffed the glass and took a very hesitant sip. Cherries; not so bad. She took a larger gulp and felt a strange prickling in her fingertips.

"That's it, dearie, keep drinking, then. I can see the color coming back to your lips already. I'm off to attend to another student, but do give a shout if you need anything. Otherwise, I'll be back to check on you in an hour."

Molly continued to drink obediently until the glass was drained and she felt very heavy and sleepy. Sighing, she laid back against the pillow and closed her eyes.


	4. After Hours

Molly awoke some time later; she couldn't be sure how long she'd slept, but it must have been hours. The dull gray light of day had deepened into the blue-black of night. She lay motionless and stared up at the ceiling, feeling empty as the cavernous black dome that stretched above her head. How was she supposed to pretend to be just another student? She was an interloper, a trespasser, an alien; she didn't belong in this time, she felt that distinctly. Wouldn't everyone else feel that too? Wouldn't they sense her _otherness_?

Molly's reveries were interrupted by the sound of furious whispering nearby.

"No, no, here, take this – "

" _ARGH WORMTAIL THAT WAS MY FOOT_ – "

"Keep a hold on the cloak, you wanker, Pomfrey'll skin us alive if she catches us in here after hours again – "

" _Shut up_ ," came a quiet voice from the other side of the room. "Pomfrey's already turned in for the night, but with the noise you lot are making she'll be back out in a second."

" _Moony_ , absolutely _spiffing_ to see you, old boy!" Said one of the nearby voices, and from the corner of Molly's eye she saw the air at the foot of her bed glitter and wrinkle. She raised her head from the pillow just the slightest bit to watch in astonishment as three teenaged boys materialized out of thin air in front of her. They were facing away from her, but the one nearest – the one who had spoken – seemed to have sensed her movement and his head shot around. Alarmed, Molly shut her eyes and fell back into the pillow. Best not to interact with anyone until she had some semblance of a plan. She lay very still and listened as they shuffled away towards the other end of the wing.

"What in Merlin's name are you three doing here at this hour?" Asked the one called Moony, sounding annoyed.

"What in Merlin's name's got your panties all in a twist over it, eh? Can't we pay a to visit our dear ailing comrade whilst he lies wasting and alone in this desolate Hospital Wing?"

"Wasting, yes. Alone, not quite," Moony responded. There was a beat of silence and ruffling of cloth; Molly presumed they had all turned back to look at her. Even from the other side of the room she could feel her face growing red. "And I suspect that's why you're _really_ here, isn't it?

"Oh, come off it, Moony, you're being dramatic – "

"Yeah, 'course we're here to see you, we felt badly we couldn't make it up earlier – "

"Although, you know, we might have been a _bit_ curious to see – "

"Yes, just a bit, I mean, we were the ones who _saved_ her, for God's sake – "

"Merlin, Moony, it was _wild_ , you should've seen the corridor we found her in – like Filch had taken a blood-soaked mop to the floor – "

" _Enough_ ," Moony interrupted. "I was here when you brought her in, I saw how close to death she was, I don't need the gory details."

"Right, well, anyway, we thought for sure she was a goner. What the bloody hell – pardon the expression – happened after McGonagall kicked us out?"

"To be honest, I don't know much more," Moony said with a sigh. "From what I could tell she suffered a massive wound on her chest, but Pomfrey put a screen up around her bed before I could get a good look. Dumbledore spent about an hour working on her, mumbling strange incantations – you know how he gets. When he was finished they took the screen away and he and McGonagall started talking to her…"

Molly felt her whole body tense. Had her secret been revealed so soon?

"And?"

"…And they cast a _Muffliato_ charm so I couldn't hear a word they said."

Molly was so relieved she let out a small, inadvertent sigh. Not small enough, apparently.

"Hang on," said one of the voices, and a set of footsteps broke off and approached her bed.

 _Shit_ , was the only thought that Molly's brain could muster as she felt a shadow loom over her. Something warm hovered above her cheek for an instant, then slapped her lightly. Molly gasped in surprise and her eyes shot open.

" _Hah_ ," said a satisfied voice. "Knew you were awake."

Indignant, Molly squinted up at the figure standing over her bed. It was impossible to make out his features in the darkness, but his silhouette in the dim moonlight was tall and wiry.

"That was rude," she said, "and unnecessary."

"Sirius, did you just _slap her awake_?" Came Moony's voice from the other end of the room.

"Relax, mate, she was already awake, anyway. Just calling her on her bluff. Eh, love?" There was a glimmer of white in the darkness as Sirius flashed what Molly presumed to be a charming smile at her. She was not charmed.

"Look," she said through clenched teeth, "I'm exhausted, I've nearly bled out, I'm not in the mood for this right now – "

"What, not in the mood to thank your noble, selfless saviors?" He exclaimed, clapping a hand to his chest in mock outrage. "I'll have you know that your blood ruined a perfectly good set of robes – "

"Oh, I'm _sorry_ about your robes," Molly began scathingly, but stopped in surprise when Sirius lowered himself to sit on the edge of her bed.

"In all seriousness," he said in a gentler tone, "we were really worried about you. We thought you'd died. We had to come and see if you were alright."

"I – well – uh, thanks," Molly managed to stutter out. He slipped a warm hand into hers and shook it.

"Sirius Black, at your service," he said. Molly was glad for the darkness; it hid the look of shock that no doubt passed over her face. She had known Sirius Black in another life; or at least, had known of him. She shook herself mentally and forced a smile.

"Molly," she responded.

"Just Molly? Molly what?"

"I…erm…" Molly hesitated. Something inside her told her not to use her real name. "I've forgotten." Molly imagined, rather than saw, Sirius's eyebrows shift upwards.

" You've _forgotten_?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes, well, I've forgotten a lot of things," she continued hurriedly. "I can't remember anything from before I was hit with this." She slipped her hand from his and laid it over her heavily bandaged chest.

"Hm," said Sirius softly; he didn't sound convinced. He twisted his neck to turn back toward his friends, who were huddled together by Moony's bed.

"Oy, you lot," he called. "Come over and say hi to Molly, the Living Girl Wonder. No, not you, Moony," he added over a rustling of bed sheets, "you're ill, stay in bed. Just wave from there."

"Hi," Moony's voice echoed across the room as Molly struggled to prop herself up on her elbows. She looked over and saw a thin dark shape sitting up in one of the far beds, waving. "I'm Remus. Sorry about them, they're always like this," he said apologetically, indicating his friends.

"Shut up, you love it," came another voice, and two more figures approached Molly's bed. "James Potter," said the voice, followed by a silhouette with extremely untidy hair. Molly's stomach gave a sick little jolt; she recognized that name, and that hair.

"And this is Peter," James continued, jerking a thumb in the direction of the short boy at his shoulder. "He didn't help rescue you, he was too busy skiving off History of Magic – "

"I _told_ you, I had to finish that Transfiguration essay for McGonagall – and anyway, I'm not stupid, you lot were skiving off too otherwise you wouldn't have found _her_ in that corridor – "

Molly cleared her throat to remind them that she was still there. They all shut up and looked at her expectantly. She suddenly felt very awkward.

"Right, well, erm, it's very nice to meet you all," she managed to get out. "And – and thank you, I suppose, for finding me or, saving me, or whatnot – "

She broke off at the sound of footsteps approaching. The boys looked at one another in panic; then James whipped out a length of shimmering material and swept it over the three of them just as the footsteps entered the room.

"Remus?" A girl's voice called uncertainly. James whipped the cloak off just as quickly as he'd put it on. The girl clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream of surprise.

"Evening, Mack!" Said Sirius, bowing grandly. The girl removed her hand and aimed a kick directly at Sirius's head. He dodged swiftly.

"That was uncalled for – "

" _You're_ uncalled for, Sirius Black – and you too, James and Peter – scaring the daylights out of me jumping out like that – "

"Oh, well, excuse us," said Peter, "we thought you were Pomfrey, we didn't expect to see _you_ , of all people, sneaking around the Hospital Wing in the dead of night – "

"Hang on, he's right," James interrupted. "What _are_ you doing here at this hour, Mack?" He asked with a note of glee in his voice, head swiveling back and forth from the girl to where Remus sat in his bed. Remus coughed loudly.

"As a matter of fact, I was just here to deliver a book to Remus," said the girl, striding over to Remus's bedside and drawing a book from her bag.

"What, at two o'clock in the morning?" Said Sirius indignantly.

" _Yes_ , at two o'clock in the morning, I had to finish the book first and it took me longer than I expected, what with McGonagall's monstrous essay. Not that it's any of _your_ business," she added haughtily.

"Hm, yes, good story, Mack – "

"Anyway, what are _you_ lot doing here?" The girl asked in a clear attempt to divert the attention away from herself. She walked over to stand behind James and Peter at the foot of Molly's bed. Her frame was long and lanky; slightly shorter than James but a good deal taller than Peter.

"Paying a visit to a friend," James said, waving his hand airily. "This is Molly, she – er – well, she's ill at the moment and we thought she could use some company. Molly – this is Marlene McKinnon."

Molly shot upright so fast that dark spots swam in front of her eyes. Sirius swore and jerked back from the bed in alarm. Molly squinted in the dim light, trying to make out the girl's features, but the dark spots seemed to be expanding rather than contracting. Her head felt light and fuzzy and her stomach was swooping with adrenaline.

" _Mum_?" She said in a quavering voice.

Then she passed out cold.


	5. Mental

"Er…did she just call Marlene 'Mum'?" Remus's voice cut through the ringing in Molly's ears. Then, from closer by:

"Reckon she did, mate. Oy, Mack, you got something you want to confess?" There was a dull _thwack_ sound and Sirius cursed under his breath.

"Right," said Marlene in a haughty voice. "Now does one of you idiots want to explain what's going on here? I've never seen this girl before in my life. Is she even a Hogwarts student? Or has one of your mental friends managed to escape St. Mungo's?"

At this Molly forced her eyes open and raised her head slightly from the pillow. Marlene turned to face her, and Molly looked into her mother's eyes for the first time in her memory. There was so much she wanted to say. For a moment she was so overcome with emotion that felt she might faint again; but then she saw Marlene's skeptical expression and remembered that she needed to keep a convincing cover if she wanted to survive here. Claiming to be Marlene's daughter from the future would not be a great start. She swallowed the lump in her throat and straightened her shoulders.

"I'm _not_ mental," she said firmly, "just a bit woozy. I was cursed, y'see, and I've lost a lot of blood today. Reckon I would've bled right to death if these two hadn't found me in time," Molly said with a nod towards James and Sirius. In unison the two of them executed comically deep bows.

"There, y'see, Mack?" Said James indignantly. "We're bloody heroes. Always ready to believe the worst in us, you are – "

"Downright rude if you ask me," Sirius added. "Here we are dragging girls left and right from the gaping mouth of death, and Mack's got the gall to imply we're mental patients –"

"Merlin, _enough_ ," said Marlene in an exasperated tone. "I'm sorry, alright?" Then her voice softened and she turned back towards Molly and placed a hand on her ankle over the bedcovers. Molly felt herself tense involuntarily at her mother's touch.

"I'm sorry for being so rude," Marlene continued. "It's late and these idiots have a knack for bringing out the worst in me," she said, jerking her thumb back towards James and Sirius.

"It's alright," said Molly with a small smile. "I know how they are. Sorry I called you Mum earlier. Don't know what came over me – must've been the loss of blood or something."

Marlene nodded in understanding. "Don't worry on it," she said kindly. "Sounds like you could use some more rest, though. We'd best leave you to it—but don't worry, we'll come back and visit at a more reasonable hour," she said with a laugh. It was a beautiful laugh; throaty and full. Molly shivered.

"Sounds brilliant," Molly replied. "It was nice meeting you, Marlene."

"Same to you, Molly," Marlene said softly. Then she turned back and said sharply: "Oy! You lot! Let's go – time for bed."

"Oh, come off it, Mack, the fun was just getting started," Sirius whined. "Can't we – "

"Yeah, Mack, sure you want to turn in just yet? Moony still looks wide awake, maybe he's hoping you'll stick around and help him _read his book_ –"

Marlene chose to ignore this comment and snapped her fingers once, striding down the row of beds towards the doorway. Peter and James followed dutifully behind, stifling their giggles. After a quick sideways glance towards the door, Sirius darted back to Molly's bedside. He slipped his warm hand back into hers for a moment and squeezed.

"We've got an in with the kitchens. Be back tomorrow with loads of food. Any special requests?"

Molly thought for a moment. Then – "Cauldron cakes. As many as you can possibly carry."

"Good choice. If you'd've said treacle tart, I'd have to nip this blossoming friendship in the bud. Right, see you tomorrow with a boatload of cauldron cakes then. In the meantime, try not to go around confusing any other students for your parents, eh? They'll think you're addled."

Molly opened her mouth to say something indignant, but Sirius darted away before she could get a word out. She watched as his silhouette slipped through the door behind Peter's, then turned her head back towards the ceiling and sighed.

"They mean well, y'know," came Remus's voice from across the room. Molly startled and sat up again; she'd forgotten he was still there. "I know they can act like arseholes most of the time, Sirius especially, but if they're willing to share food with you, it means they've taken a liking to you," Remus continued.

"They've got a right way of showing it," Molly said wryly, "implying I'm mental and all that –"

"Oh, he was only joking," said Remus with a wave of his hand. "It's how he expresses affection, you'll get used to it. We're not a bad lot on the whole, I swear." Molly laughed.

"I think I'll be the judge of that," she said. "But they did save my life today, I suppose that's not a bad start…"

"No, not at all," said Remus with a laugh. Then he turned serious. "So you really don't remember anything before they found you today?" He asked gently. "You've no idea where you came from or what happened to you?"

Molly hesitated. Remus's voice sounded so warm and friendly, so reassuring, that for a moment she was tempted to just let go and tell him the truth. But then she remembered the wreckage and ruin that the room they were lying in was to become in just a few decades' time; if she were to stand any chance of figuring out how to escape this mess and save what was left of her life in the future, she needed to keep her head down and her mouth shut. She slowly shook her head.

"No," she said softly, "can't remember a thing. It's all in a fog."

Remus was silent for a moment, as if waiting for her to say something more. She didn't. "Shame," he finally said in a tone that led Molly to think he didn't quite believe her. "Must've been some curse to do you in like that. Maybe your memory will start to come back in time."

"Yeah, maybe," said Molly. She lay back down and turned to her side. "Sorry, I really am tired now. Going to try to get some sleep. Have a good night, eh, Remus?"

"Sure thing. 'Night, Molly." Molly heard the rustle of covers as Remus settled back into his bed. Soon his breathing settled into an even rhythm and Molly knew he was asleep. She wished she could do the same – every bone in her body ached and her eyes felt grainy and bloodshot. It must be nearly four in the morning. But she lay awake on her side staring down the long row of empty beds before her, imagining them filled with the bodies of her friends. After what felt like hours, she finally began to drift off into sleep, her mind filled with the sound of her mother's laughter.


	6. Happy Christmas

Molly awoke to a searing pain in her chest and the sound of muffled giggling. She shot upright and the giggling stopped immediately, replaced by gasps of surprise.

"Molly, what're _you_ still doing here?" Said a voice that sounded very much like Lavender Brown's. Which was impossible. Lavender Brown wasn't born yet. Or she was dead. Molly wasn't sure which anymore. She whipped her head around and realized with a shock that she was no longer lying in a Hospital Wing bed. Instead, she was nestled in her own red four-poster in Gryffindor Tower, in what looked very much like her fifth-year dormitory room. Lavender and Parvati Patil sat in the beds opposite hers, both still in their pajamas and inexplicably wearing silly-looking Santa hats. They were staring at Molly in confusion.

"Sorry – what's going on?" Said Molly uncertainly.

"We thought you'd gone home with Susan and her aunt for the holidays, like you always do. Didn't you leave yesterday after the feast?" Said Parvati with a frown.

"I –" Molly stammered. Parvati and Lavender were looking at her like she was some sort of mental patient; she had to think quickly. "Be right back," she said quickly, and dashed out of bed into the washroom. She splashed cold water on her face and on the back of her neck. Sputtering, she lifted her face and looked into the mirror, as if to assure herself that she still existed. She took stock: two large blue eyes that might have been pretty but for the dark bags smudged beneath them; a smattering of freckles across her nose; a mop of strawberry blonde hair that had definitely seen better days. Merlin's beard, when was the last time she'd had a proper wash? She shook her head and tried to focus. It seemed she'd traveled through time again, this time forward to her fifth year. She was damn lucky she'd landed on a day when her future (past?) self was off on holiday – she'd heard stories of what happened to witches and wizards who meddled with time travel and ended up accidentally killing their past or future selves, or driving themselves mad. She shuddered.

She had to find Dumbledore, and fast. It was after 1978; he already knew about her, about the time travel. He would know what to do. Steeling herself with this new plan, she walked back out into the dormitory, where Parvati and Lavender still sat watching her.

"Right, sorry about that," Molly said apologetically. "Had an awful dream, didn't know where I was for a moment. And you're right, I am planning on spending the holiday with the Bones's, but I had something to finish up for Flitwick's class so I decided to stay behind one more day. Didn't mean to give you lot such a fright!" Lavender and Parvati smiled in relief.

"Oh, well, that makes sense then," said Parvati. "Except – doesn't explain where you went last night after the feast. We were up quite late and your bed was empty!"

"Ooh, yes!" Lavender chimed in, eyes gleaming. "Tell us, Molls, what _did_ you get up to last night? I thought I noticed one of the Weasley twins making eyes at you over the pudding…"

Molly flushed and her stomach dropped at the mention of the Weasley twins. Fred, who she'd seen lying cold on the floor of the very Great Hall where his brother had once made eyes at her…

"Erm, no," Molly cleared her throat. "I think you had one too many sips of firewhiskey out of that flask you snuck into dinner – George Weasley was most certainly not making eyes at anyone over any puddings. As it happens, I stayed late in the library working on Charms." Lavender wrinkled her nose in disappointment.

"What a horrid way to spend a Christmas Eve," she said. "Let us know if you want to take a break from all that tripe. Parvati and I were going to go into Hogsmeade today if you fancy joining us. We heard the Ravenclaw Quidditch team will be there…I'm dying for a go at Roger Davies and this is my chance."

"Sounds lovely," Molly mused, forcing herself not to roll her eyes. "I've got to run now and take care of something, but maybe I'll catch up with you lot later, eh?"

"Right, see you later then. Happy Christmas, Molly!" Said Parvati.

"Cheers," Molly waved a hand as she stepped out of the dormitory. She rushed down the spiral staircase, fully intent on heading straight to Dumbledore's office to sort out this mess. But she came up short when she reached the common room and nearly tripped over two people sprawled on the floor playing Wizard Chess. It was Fred and George Weasley.

"Oy, McKinnon," Fred exclaimed, looking up in surprise. George whipped his head around to stare at Molly with an identical expression. Molly panicked; she couldn't.

"I – sorry, I've got to go –" she stammered and stumbled towards the portrait hole. She slipped through it without a word and started down the corridor at a run. She heard the portrait open and shut again behind her, and the sound of footsteps closing in.

"McKinnon, _wait_!" George called. She slowed for a moment but didn't turn. "McKinnon, come back – McKinnon….MOLLY!" He caught up and grabbed her elbow, jerking her back. She looked up into his eyes, which were confused and full of hurt. His red hair was tousled as if he'd only just gotten out of bed, and he appeared to be wearing Fred's Weasley sweater – dark green and emblazoned with a gold F.

"Bloody hell, Molly," he panted. "What gives, eh?"

"Sorry, George, I've got to go –" she started.

"Yeah, that's what you said last night when you ran out on me after the feast, too," said George with a frown. "Said you had to go meet Susan to get on a train back to her aunt's in the countryside. Obviously that didn't happen. And I reckon you didn't go skipping off to the library because I know for a fact you finished your Charms essay last week. So what gives?"

"Look, George, it's a long story and I don't have time to explain right now, but –"

"Save the excuses, Molly. If you don't like me that way, you could've just said so last night and saved us both a lot of trouble. Happy bloody Christmas," George said angrily, dropping her arm and turning away.

"Wait, George, it's not like that, I – " Molly said desperately. George turned around to face her.

"Yeah? What's it like, then?" He asked with one eyebrow raised.

"I – I can't explain now, not here, but – "

George rolled his eyes and turned away again, stalking back off towards the portrait hole and leaving Molly feeling very much alone in the corridor. She wiped her eyes furiously and spun on her heel, now determined to find Dumbledore. She pushed all thoughts of George from her mind and walked resolutely to the Headmaster's Office. She approached the familiar pair of griffin statues guarding the entrance – it felt like a lifetime ago now that she'd charged through these to escape the Death Eaters – and knocked three times.

" _Come in_ ," boomed a voice from nowhere, and the griffins sprung aside to admit Molly onto the staircase.

"Miss McKinnon," said Dumbledore as she reached the top. "I would say this is a pleasant surprise, but I have to confess I've been waiting for a visit from you for some time now." He strode out from behind his desk to greet her; he was wearing a set of splendid red and green robes in honor of the Christmas holiday.

"Yes, well, I expect you know what this is about, then," said Molly hurriedly.

"I believe I have an inkling," said Dumbledore. "You have traveled through time, then?"

"Yes," said Molly. "But I've no idea how. One moment I was lying in a bed in the Hospital Wing in 1978, and the next I'm waking up in Gryffindor Tower in the middle of my fifth year. Professor, I feel as if I'm going mad. I can't make heads or tails of what's real anymore. What do I do?" Molly asked in anguished tones.

Dumbledore looked at her with pity.

"I'm afraid there's no answer to that particular question, my dear," he said sadly. "We can only do what we think is right and hope for the best. As for the time travel – I'm not much wiser there, but I will try to help you as best I can. What was the last thing you remember before you traveled?" Molly thought for a moment.

"Well, I was thinking about – about something that happens in the future, something bad," Molly said carefully. She didn't want to give away too much; there was no telling what might happen if Molly revealed everything she knew of the future. "I was thinking about my friends, and I was thinking about my mother…" she trailed off and looked away.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore gently. "Well, I can't say I understand how you ended up here, at this time. And I can't promise to know when you will next travel, or to where. But I do have a theory that might be of some help." Molly looked up at him hopefully.

"What is it, Professor?"

"I believe, Molly, that if you are awake and conscious when you begin to travel, you may be able to guide yourself to a particular time and place, if you so desire. It will take a tremendous effort of focus on your part, and there's no guaranteeing that it will always work. But from what I have read, and from what I have known of you in the past, I believe it to be possible."

"That's…that's all you've got?" Molly asked incredulously. "There's no way to stop it? I'm just supposed to be stuck in this ridiculous time warp forever, constantly bouncing back and forth between friends and family, never knowing who's dead and who's alive?"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid so, my dear. Magic works in mysterious ways, and this is beyond anything I confess to understand. You must trust that there is some higher purpose to these unfortunate circumstances. If I recall correctly, the first time you traveled you came out in 1978? During your mother's seventh year?"

"Yes," Molly nodded heavily.

"Then I would wager to guess that there is something special about that time. There was some reason, unknown to us, for you to be there. I would suggest that whenever you feel yourself being pulled to another time, you pour all your energy into going back there."

"But _how_?" Asked Molly desperately. "How can I possibly control that? And what am I supposed to do when I get there? And how will I even know that I'm about to travel?"

"Ah, well, that last one, I believe I can answer," said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye. "In fact, I believe you're about to leave me right now. The air around you is blurring, and you're growing more translucent by the second. Can you feel it?"

Suddenly the pain in Molly's chest was so great that she could barely speak. She clutched the front of her robes and stared helplessly at Dumbledore.

"Focus, Miss McKinnon," he said gently. "Think of the Hospital Wing. Think of your mother. Control it." Dumbledore's voice faded quickly and Molly's vision began to go dark. Squeezing her eyes shut and gritting her teeth, she poured all her mental energy into picturing the Hospital Wing as it stood in 1978: dusty, gray-domed ceiling, empty except for her and Remus. Sirius and Marlene were going to come back to visit her. With cauldron cakes. Loads of cauldron cakes; she could practically taste them.

Her stomach lurched and all at once she was falling into black. She hit the ground hard and felt herself tangled in something that threatened to smother her. She thrashed around in a panic, struggling to free herself, until she realized it was only bedsheets. She stopped, panting, and looked around her. She was back in the Hospital Wing; it was empty, save for the boy sitting a couple of beds away looking at her curiously.

"What the bloody hell happened to you?" Remus asked.


End file.
